


Beneath the Shadow

by Helholden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood Magic, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Dark Magic, Elemental Magic, F/F, Fire Magic, Flashbacks, Gen, Post-Canon Fix-It, References to Depression, Resurrection, Rituals, Soul-Searching, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: On Drogon's wings across the Dothraki Sea, the lifeless body of Daenerys Targaryen is delivered into the hands of the red priestesses in Asshai. New life is breathed into her lungs, but at a terrible cost. In a land where nothing is forbidden, Daenerys must learn to cope with what has happened to her while the strange occupants of Asshai teach her the higher mysteries of arcane magic and dark sorcery. After all, her blood is the blood of Old Valyria. Magic courses through her veins.Meanwhile, the dragons of Bran's visions stir in the steep mountain passes of the Shadow Lands, and Drogon hears their call.





	1. Daenerys I

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know there's multiple fix-it fics that have probably came out since the finale, but I had an idea in particular that I wanted to play with to help me cope with what happened to Daenerys in the show. Asshai has been a large mystery worthy of any writer to delve into, and well, I'd like to do just that. Forget Westeros. We're in new territory now.
> 
> And anyways, I've always preferred the setting of Essos over Westeros ever since my days spent writing _Heavy_.

 

" _To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back, and to touch the light, you must pass beneath the shadow._ "

 

_A Clash of Kings,_ Chapter 40, Daenerys III

 

* * *

 

On the first day, no memory could she recall beyond the black shadows dancing in her dreams. _Sleep_ , they wailed one moment. _Wake!_ they echoed the next. Always, the echo jarred her from the pool she floated in, turning the still nothingness into a whirling sea of chaos and fear.

 

Any moment she might drown.

 

On the second day, things were different. There were sounds, strange sounds, almost like voices but too far away. They did not make sense, but they scared her far less than the tumultuous sea, so she welcomed their sound as if they were mothers calling to their babe. Once, even, she think she smiled, or was it water running down her lips . . . a cup . . . a bowl . . . a refreshing gulp of . . .

 

On the third day, the world slowly started to make sense again.

 

She remembered her name was Daenerys, and she remembered she was in great pain. It was both physical and mental, her anguish tenfold because of their twine, and her heart hurt the most. It hurt so much that she clasped at her chest to hold it in because it felt as if it would fall out at any moment . . . that is, if there was anything left of it. It felt, physically, cleeved in two. She cried out, and then she felt hands on her. They eased her down to the pallet, though she pushed at them at first, not trusting the hands. The last hands that touched her . . .

 

Somehow, the ghostly wisps of what might have been arms laid her back down upon the soft cotton and hard linen of the pallet below. The cool touch of cloth along her back, and then her neck, eased her to sleep once more.

 

Later that evening, she woke. Her eyes opened, and she saw a fire burning in the center of the large room past the foot of her bed. It was an elegant campfire built of stone, wood, and black iron. The curves of iron held the wood, which burned a deep cherry red fire. The sight was both odd and magical. It looked as if dyed spice had been thrown at the base to burn the fire a different color. Daenerys followed the smoke with her eyes, tilting her head back until the grey wisps escaped at the top. It was a most beautiful and holy sight, the smoke disappearing past a hole in the center of the dome.

 

"Are you thirsty?"

 

Daenerys spun too fast at the sound of the light voice, and it hurt her. She grasped at her neck, cringing. The young woman standing opposite of her looked almost terrified herself, bright golden eyes bowing to Daenerys as if she had offended a master.

 

"I am most ingracious to have disturbed your rest," the young woman spoke quickly, lowering herself to her knees. "If I have offended you, my life is in your hands."

 

Shocked, Daenerys lowered her hand from her neck. "No . . . " she croaked, finding it difficult to speak. "No . . . there is no need for that . . . " Her throat was so parched. It tasted as if she had not had anything to drink for days. "May I have some water?"

 

This was not her home after all, and Daenerys did not think it kind to be ungrateful or rude to her saviors, whoever they were.

 

The young woman lit up at her request. In a moment she was off, running over to a table near the door at the far side of the room. It held a few pitchers and many empty cups. She poured a golden liquid into the cup, and Daenerys could taste the honey and sweet warmth spill over her tongue.

 

She drank it quickly when it was brought to her, and the concotion tasted much like her imagination told her it would. Only there were medicinal spices in it, too. She tasted bits of lavendar, nutmeg, and chamomile. She wondered what this place was and where it was. They had access to many things held mostly by large cities and trade ports. Steam drifted off the hot tea, and the whiff helped Dany to breathe deeply again. That single breath calmed her more than anything.

 

"Where am I?" she asked the young woman, holding the warm cup close to her breast.

 

"You are in a red temple dedicated to R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, and the God of Flame and Shadow. You are safe here, Queen Daenerys."

 

It told her where she was, but it also did not. One thing was true. She wasn't in Westeros anymore. The red temples only existed in the east, and so she was far, far away from the Red Keep, but it wasn't red when she last stood in it, was it? It had been ashen grey and black char, burnt stone from Drogon's powerful flames . . . .

 

Her first and only memory of a place she had dreamed of since she was a child.

 

She was a child no more.

 

Dany shook her head. Heat flushed her cheeks, and tremors seized her body as silent tears fell from her eyes. They trickled down her cheeks as a surge of memories tore through her mind all at once. She was remembering. Everything that had come before this moment. She had been betrayed by everyone. She had lost . . . everyone . . . _Missandei_ . . .

 

The world distorted itself into a hot flood, and Dany cried. She cried as the young woman with golden eyes brought her more honey tea, and she cried as a blanket was drawn over her shoulders to help keep her warm. Soft arms pulled her into a hug and rocked her, and Dany pressed her face into the tunic of this stranger offering her comfort. A soft singing voice filled the air, calming the race of her pounding heart.

 

This was a nightmare. A dream beyond all dark dreams. One she had not wished to ever contemplate, so it was visited upon her now in her darkest of hours out of vengeance for her pride and her wrath. Dany shook in the arms of the young woman like a scared girl at her mother's breast, and she clutched at the rough linen underneath her trembling fingertips.

 

With salt-streaked cheeks and a broken heart, Dany cried herself into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 


	2. Daenerys II

 

" _Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night_."

 

 _A Game of Thrones,_ Chapter 23, Daenerys III

 

* * *

 

In the light of day, the red temple was a sight to behold. Braziers burned with golden flames throughout the halls, and pillars made of white marble and burnished stone had been etched with patterns and filled with precious metals that glimmered when they caught the light. The inside was made of light colors, so that during the day, the temple caught all the light of the sun, and it was a marvellous display. But at night, the walls and floors drank up the fires from the golden braziers, and the splash of color was all reds and golds on every face, every shoe, and the glint in every eye.

 

Dany had awoken from her slumber the night before to find simple white raiment left out for her at the foot of her bed. She crawled out of the covers and pulled the light shift over her head, discarding it. The new clothes were a wrapped top, with straps to be looped over the arms and neck, and a draped floorlength wrap for her waist with loops to fasten it in place as well. Spotted black and white sandals, made of horse leather likely imported from the Dothraki, had been left out for her feet.

 

They were all comfortable, and perfect for the warm weather. The fabric, though weighted, breathed as Dany walked into the hallway. Wind caught in her lower dress, and it cooled her legs. Her hair laid loose with no braids, but it was pulled to one side in a single ribbon to keep it off her neck.

 

She found other women in the fourth chamber. Most were like halls, but this one was a gathering place. Noticing that the priestesses, who were told apart by their jewelry and adornments, wore lush reds, Dany saw that the slaves were dressed in unbleached linen. Guests as well as willing servants, it seemed, were dressed in white raiment. Dany glanced down at the white clothes they had given her, and when she looked up, she noticed that everyone in the room was staring at her.

 

Her heart started racing, half in old excitement and half in new fear. Everywhere she went, this seemed to happen to her. Every time, it always affected her with happiness or uneasiness. It all depended on the meaning behind their stare.

 

The red priestesses, they smiled or grinned at her. Each of them, at different intervals, bowed their heads and greeted her. They all had different titles for her. She was known, even here, wherever  _here_  was, and she felt that similar sensation creep up on her again as her fingers clutched helplessly at her gown.

 

The slaves stared in awe or reverance, and then bowed. Some of them did not. There were many willing servants and perhaps only a handful of guests like her, but they appeared to be more kindly and open towards Dany. All of them, though, called her  _Queen_.

 

Finally, when a silence opened up, as if they were all waiting on a response from her, Dany raised her chin and smiled with sad eyes at all of them.

 

"While I am most grateful for your kindness," Dany said to everyone, looking around the room as she spoke, "and your hospitality, I must insist on simply being calling by my given name, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I am . . . " Her voice caught in her throat. "I know I was defeated by cowardice and treason, but . . . defeated I was, and you have raised me back up, but I am no more than you." Dany glanced at each face. "I recognize none of the faces before me. Were I a successful queen, I would have my people and my army before me to greet me on my victory." Dany shook her head. "It may not be my path to walk any longer. I relinquish all former titles in favor of simply being called Lady Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, or Lady Daenerys. Forgive me if I offend you, but that is my wish. If you will excuse me . . . "

 

Not knowing what else to say, or wanting to stay any longer under their questioning gazes, Dany left the room in a storm of murmurs that erupted in her path.

 

As soon as she had gotten far enough away from the throng of people, the dreadful feeling of worry lifted off her soul.

 

She was one person again. She was just Daenerys Stormborn, not the head of a strong army of people who all fought for the same cause and felt as though they were one with her. Holding her arms out in the empty hallway, Dany felt a breeze blow by and cool her skin. She remembered being this girl before, and for all of the pain that came afterwards, she was glad to be simpler again but free.

 

This was, by all accounts, a safe haven. The red priestesses guarded their own temple. They needed no men soldiers here. Dany saw no members of the Fiery Hand, only what appeared to be a school for slaves and apprentice women to become red priestesses themselves. It was all women. Everywhere she walked, she saw nothing but women.

 

Dany swept across the grounds to inspect everything in sight but the private quarters. She discovered they had put her inside of the infirmary, and that there were two kitchens, four gathering areas, multiple libraries, one large washroom for everyone, private quarters in the upper two levels, and stockrooms in the basements. There were also strangely guarded doors with chains, large bolts and bars, and locks. Dany sometimes heard the ground shake therein, sending a tremor beneath her feet through the whole earth.

 

Something here was unnatural, but this was a temple to a fire god. Dany had heard of the types of arts red priestesses learned in their secret chambers.

 

She also knew they were freer with their bodies than women of other religions. Sex was often a tool for them, or it was a holy rite. They had no need of sins here. This was a place where no talent went unexplored. The thought made her heart race again, only this time it was excitement once more.

 

Her feet stopped at the ledge overseeing the back porch of the temple.

 

The sea stretched out before her, streaked with rose gold and deep copper from the sunset. It had rained the night before. Dany could smell it in the air, and the colors of the sky told her the truth as they gleamed over the ripples in the water.

 

It was beautiful. From the position of the temple, she could see half the layout of the city. It was on the coastline of black tipped land that rose with jagged peaks into the sky. They caught the light and drank it in, dancing with shards of pink, green, and copper like obsidian in the sunlight. Clouds covered patches of the sky, darkening the edges of the known world beyond, giving the open point on which they stood feel cornered but wide at the same time. Tall mountains in the distance at the south point blackened the sky further, and across the north to the east, there were high, dark mountains looming without life above them.

 

The ledge of the temple ended with an elegant gutter system that looked like a small rectangle pool running along the edge of the open porch. Dany slowly walked up to it, and removing one of her sandals, went to dip her foot into the rainbow slick waves.

 

A hand grasped her forearm tightly and yanked her back. "No, you mustn't! The water is poison! It is not safe to touch or drink!"

 

Dany wrenched her arm away from the stranger. She realized now that her first attendee, the young woman with golden eyes and a childlike voice, was a slave by her clothes. This woman, with sleek brunette curls and olive skin, was dressed in all white like her.

 

"What do you mean?" asked Dany, rubbing the imprints of where the woman's hand had been.

 

"That is the gutter. It catches the poisonous water that falls from the sky and drains it back into the sea. We can't drink it or touch it. You will slowly die."

 

Dany glanced up into the sky, shielding her eyes against the sunset. It seemed brighter now. "Why is there no roof on the porch?"

 

Her companion half-smiled at that. "It is protection from enemies and raiders. Once they step in the water, if it is raining, they have no shelter for fifteen feet in either direction. We are on the coast, and you must invade by poisonous water. Who would traverse that?"

 

Dany glanced at her, taking in full view of the woman. She was intrigued. "Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

 

"My name is Gita," she answered, tipping her head forward.

 

"Why are you here?"

 

Gita lauged loud and clear, and Dany thought she was quite beautiful. She seemed to feel more comfortable here as Gita lifted the edge of her dress off the floor with one hand and held out her other to Daenerys. "Quick, follow me. I wish to show you something."

 

Dany followed the pull of Gita's hand across the porch and the inner courtyard before they reached the inside of the temple in an open floor raised up in round levels like steps leading to a pool in the center.

 

The water was clean, glowing the color of the sunset as it caught each ray off of the pillars, and here Gita let go of her hand, kicked off her sandals, and lifted her skirts.

 

She waded into the pool, and Dany realized she should probably follow. She removed her lone sandal and approached the large pool of water. It was cut like a bowl into the marble with the deepest point being in the center. Gita merely waded on the edges of it.

 

"This is more what you were looking for," Gita explained, "and I am here for the same reason as everyone else who is here. We are training to become red priestesses."

 

Dany raised her skirts, raising a single eyebrow. "Is that easy?"

 

"If you want it to be," Gita said. She looked at Dany. "I do, so it is easy. Some girls, they are only here because they have nowhere else to go. I am here because this was my destiny."

 

 _My destiny_ , Dany heard her say. She had thought many times of her destiny as well, but now she was here . . .

 

"I used to think I knew my destiny," Dany began to say, but Gita cut her off.

 

"You did not if you thought it was something other than this place." Gita kicked the water. It fell in copper droplets. "Your destiny was here all along if this is where you are now. Your story is not over yet, is it?"

 

"You speak very boldly . . . "

 

"A woman of fire  _should_ ," Gita cut in, grinning across the pool. "We are taught to speak the truth. To be bold. You should know that, Mother of Dragons."

 

Dany froze at the mention of her children. He heart fell in her chest, remembering her fresh pain all over again. "Is . . . is Drogon here?"

 

Gita glanced up at the sky, though a flat iridescent marble roof was raised above their heads. "He is here . . . " Dany's heart soared as she smiled at this one bit of happy news. "Somewhere," Gita continued. "He dropped you off, and then they said he flew off towards the mountains. But he flew overhead yesterday. I saw his shadow. He terrified a few, but I think most of the Asshai'i are intrigued by him . . . "

 

Dany's breath caught in her throat. " . . . Asshai? Is that where I am?"

 

"Yes, you are in Asshai," Gita answered with a nod. "We are a small port city, and we deal in trade and commerce. Our temple is sacred here."

 

"It sounds like home to you."

 

"It is." Gita dropped her skirts. The white cloth soaked up the water, clinging around her ankles. "Or it has been. For the last few years."

 

Dany walked slowly into the water. It felt nice and cool, and it tickled her skin. "How long does it take to become a red priestess?"

 

"It is different for everyone. Some, it may take five years. Others might take ten. There is no set course, just a mastering of skills. I have heard some take decades to accomplish their trials." Gita shrugged. "I don't know how long mine will take, though I suppose I might not be doing my best as I spend more time enjoying my stay here. Eventually, when our apprenticeship is done, we sometimes must travel away to other lands to do the Lord's work. I have no desire to leave yet."

 

Dany ventured another question. "May I leave as I wish? After all, I am only a guest here, and I might have need to go . . . "

 

"Where?" Gita inquired.

 

Dany was silent.

 

Gita smiled again. "You should stay here. You should rest. You are an honored guest. All of the girls feel it is a blessing to have you brought to us like this. On the wings of a dragon, you were delivered into the Lord's hands . . . " Gita had approached Dany slowly, and she took Dany's hands into hers. Dany's shift fell, too, into the water. "You still have a purpose, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

 

With a gesture at the sky using their clasped hands, Gita looked up. "It is written in the stars that you were to come here borne on the winds of a terrible storm. I saw it myself that night. The sky was pitch and torn with lightning. Thunder shook the mountains, and your dragon rested your body on our doorstep. Our head priestess brought you in, they anointed your body, and she breathed your soul back into it. I was there. I saw you rise . . . "

 

A lump formed in Dany's throat, and she tried to swallow past it. She pulled her hands away from Gita and walked out of the pool, picking up her dress. "Maybe I should have stayed dead—"

 

"Our laws dictate that no one should be brought back unless their will is strong enough to turn the world towards the light—"

 

Dany whirled around on Gita, finding the other woman not far behind her from the pool's edge. "I  _thought_  I had done everything in the my power to turn the world towards the light and against the dark, but the world turned against me and I found a darkness in my soul as deep as my kinsmen before me. Tell me,  _Gita_ , why should I be alive again after everything I have seen and done? After everything that has been done to  _me_? Who has that say? The Lord of Light? He has  _never_  shown his face to me. I have only seen the face that lies behind the curtain of the Long Night. They say in Yi Ti he is called the Lion of Night. In Braavos they call him the Many-Faced God, and in Westoros he is the Stranger. In the North and beyond the Wall, the Children of the Forest had the Great Other. The same Great Other your god fights against. He is one and the same, and I have looked him in the eyes and watched him  _perish_."

 

Dany let go of Gita, feeling her anger suddenly leave her. They had no right to bring her back. She had done her part to save the world, and as repayment for her loyalty and willingness to fight for them, they would not fight for her. They all turned on her, and the one that she believed would not stabbed her in the heart and let her bleed on the floor at his feet.

 

Sinking to her knees, Dany sat on the floor. She sobbed unwillingly in front of Gita, but instead of being left alone or abandoned, her new companion surprised her and sat down beside her, taking Dany into her arms. It was a hug. A simple hug, and Dany cried harder into her shoulder. It was all she had wanted from Jon.

 

Something so simple, and he could not give it.

 

Gita seemed to understand what she needed, and the two women held each other despite the tears and wet hems. The chill of evening was setting into the air, turning the water cold.

 

When Dany pulled away, she realized the common sense of the clothes they wore here. They were breathable during the hot and windy day, but thick enough to remain warm during the cold nights.

 

"Come," Gita said. "Let me get you a blanket. It is supper soon. Are you hungry?"

 

"Yes, I'm starving," Dany admitted, finding it refreshing to be honest with her.

 

"Good." Gita smiled. "The food is all imported, and we have rare delicacies sometimes."

 

"Why is all the food imported?"

 

Gita did not look as though she knew how to explain it. "The land is . . . barren, Daenerys. Nothing grows here. Only ghost grass, and the water is polluted. We must import that, too."

 

"Please," she said. "Call me Dany."

 

Gita furrowed her brow at such a request. "Maybe in private, but I would not be so disrespectful in public." She looked at Dany. "You are a lady of a noble family."

 

"Dany, please," she insisted softly. "I have no more friends. I should like to make a new one."

 

Gita grinned back. "Yes then, Dany."

 

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Dany pulled Gita in for another hug. Her hair smelled of lavender oils and clean soap, and Dany inhaled the sweet scent with her eyes closed. It was her first true scent of Asshai, for the air carried no smell but the smoke from the burning braziers, torches, and candles throughout the city.

 

Imprinted in her thoughts forever more was the scent of lavender oils and clean soap prickling under the warmth of a fire on the wind of Asshai.

 


	3. Daenerys III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I removed the "Miscarriage" tag and updated it with "Unplanned Pregnancy" because I remembered an interesting fact about Asshai with children, which I wanted to work into this story. Some more things will be explained about Asshai in upcoming chapters when Dany gets more comfortable about leaving the grounds of the red temple, too.

* * *

 

The red temple held the meal for the evening in a large mess hall. There were elegantly carved wooden tables with backless cushioned chairs, all dressed in colors of the natural sunset. Upon closer inspection of the table she was seated at with the priestesses, Dany could see eclectic shapes of people, places, and animals in what looked like legends told with pictures etched into the wood. A finishing stain laid over them, and over that, the wood had been lacquered smoothly to protect the delicate carvings. She ran her finger over a carving of the sun with curved rays, trying to decipher its mystery. While she was interested in the pictures, it was an excuse as well. To avoid all of the eyes in the room, for they were on her.

 

Dany was given a place at the main table for the red priestesses as their guest of honor. Despite the different classes of women, there was no way to tell the tables apart. It seemed everyone mingled together except for the priestesses themselves, who sat apart from the rest. There were slaves, as slaves were allowed in Asshai, but Dany could see no evidence of mistreatment. The priestesses did not give themselves better chairs or higher tables than anyone else, and the slaves ate at the same time instead of serving everyone else and eating later by themselves.

 

It was simple food, but delicious to her starving belly. Roasted meats and vegetables were served by fire light with fresh grapes, cheese, various loafs of bread from sourdough to sweet, and pitchers full of blood red wine were passed around for drink. A cup of water was brought to her by an apprentice in white, and Dany desired to ask for wine, but she did not want to seem ungrateful. No one had bothered her since she had awoken from her slumber, however long that was, and they had let her roam freely without disturbing her.

 

"Is the food to your pleasure, Daenerys?"

 

Dany paused with the cup at her lips, lowering it back down to the table. The voice came from her left, and it belonged to the head priestess, though Dany had not yet learned her name. She was a striking woman with defined features and dark skin, coal black hair, and amber eyes. Her smile seemed more a smirk, half friendly and the other half a great secret closely hidden and known only to herself.

 

"Yes," Dany answered nervously. "Thank you. It is most refreshing."

 

"Good," the head priestess replied, and she tipped her head forward in an acknowledgment. "My name is Chiara. I am at your service. Whatever you wish, you need only ask."

 

Dany drummed her fingertips against her cup. "Were you the one who brought me back to life?" she inquired. A bold question, but Gita had said the head priestess was the one responsible for breathing life back into her body.

 

The hum of conversation at their table came to a sudden halt, silence filling the air with a stifling discomfort. Others nearby took notice of her question, but most were not close enough to hear them.

 

"Yes," Chiara finally answered after a pause, placing her own goblet on the table rather than holding it any longer. "My incantations brought you back from the place just beyond death. You were pale and fading, but your dragon flew you here in enough time for me to make my decision. The Lord spoke to me, and I raised you."

 

Dany felt her teeth grit behind her lips, hiding it well. "Why? Why did he ask you to bring me back?"

 

The fire light flickered in Chiara's eyes. "His will is not always forthright, but I saw your dragon with my own eyes as he flew in the midst of a great storm to bring your body to us. The mountains to the north of us call all sorts of wild and dangerous creatures to this part of the world. We are an old and ancient city, and we still stand because we are the feet of the world where man first walked with all the beasts of the Lord's creation. They call the lake at Vaes Dothrak the Womb of the World. The world of man was born here, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name. Life was born here, and life will die here. It is why the land is poison. It is why the water flows with pollution. We are the beginning and the end."

 

The light in Chiara's eyes simmered, and slowly ebbed away into something resembling kindness once again. "Quaithe told you that you would find truth here, but did you come? No, you sought the petty squabbles of man. Who should sit here? Who should sit there? Both meaningless questions. The real tragedy is that you did not learn your truth. You did not learn the world's truth. Only its hardships and pain, but there is so much you do not yet know. You still have time to learn. Are you willing, Daenerys? Will you listen, or does the call of battle and victory conquer all your senses?"

 

Anger boiled up in her chest, but Daenerys pushed it back down and kept it close to her heart. Chiara was right, though she didn't want to admit it. Dany had pushed forward as Quaithe had warned her to go back, but she did not heed her warnings. On and on, she pushed forward only to fail herself and everyone else around her until there was nothing left but a goal. No one to share it with her.

 

Dany stood up suddenly, drawing everyone's gaze to her. "Excuse me, but I need to be alone."

 

With that, she stormed out of the mess hall, all eyes trailing in her wake.

 

The air was much cooler at night, and as she walked past open windows with sheer curtains and soft light, the breeze raised every hair on her arms and froze her skin. It reminded her of the cold up in the North, though it was nowhere near as harsh here.

 

That thought drew Daenerys to a stop in the hallway, her hands clutching her forearms with a grip so tight her knuckles turned the white of corpse skin. She shuddered, the curtain billowing around her, and the bright moon lit the world with an ethereal glow of silver.

 

Dany closed her eyes, seeing a familiar pair of dark eyes staring back at her. They should have been filled with love, but she saw only sadness in them. Jon's face, though known to her before she awoke here, seemed a distant memory now that he was nowhere in sight. Far and unfathomable, he began to slide away from the veil behind her eyes.

 

"Please," Dany whispered, releasing her arms and clutching the window sill, "come back . . . "

 

He could not hear her, though, and his visage disappeared in a swirl of smoke within her mind.

 

The peaceful night sky was all that remained when Dany opened her eyes again.

 

He was gone.

 

"Forgive me for my harsh words, Daenerys," came the gentle voice of Chiara behind her. "My intent was not to upset you."

 

"What, then, was your intent?"

 

Chiara stepped closer. Daenerys could feel her presence without looking. A warmth radiated from her like that of a fire in bloom. "To open your eyes," she murmured. "To help you see."

 

" . . . See what?"

 

They were standing side by side now. Chiara smelled of burning incense and spice. She glanced at Dany, and then she reached out and placed her hand on Dany's stomach. The touch startled Dany, and her own hand darted out to grasp Chiara's painted knuckles.

 

Chiara's next words changed everything.

 

"I did not wish to tell you this, but I must," she warned Dany. There was an urgency in her voice. "You carry a little baby girl in your belly. She is no bigger than your fist. I sensed her inside you, and my words brought her back to life as well. If you are not careful, she will not survive this place. Children do not live here, Daenerys. They die here. Most women cannot carry a baby more than a few weeks. The longest I have seen last is three months."

 

Dany tightened her grip on the hand of the priestess, her stomach just below their clutch. Her heart felt as though it would fall out of her chest onto the floor, leaving a blood-painted mess across their feet.

 

"I have only just arrived," Dany managed to get out. Her nerves were quaking. This was too much at once. She couldn't process it. Her body physically fought the notion with every fiber of its being. "I thought I was a guest. I thought I might get to stay for a while. At least until I figured out where I coul—"

 

"No one is telling you to go, Daenerys," Chiara assured her, removing her hand from Dany's belly and moving to stand in her view. The red priestess clasped their hands together in a sign of good faith. "But I would be placing your child in great danger by withholding this information from you, and the longer I waited to tell you, the less time you would have to make a decision."

 

"But I don't understand," Dany pleaded with her. "First, you tell me I should have come here all along, and now you tell me I must go—"

 

"It is not that simple," Chiara said. "Asshai is a danger to your baby, but I have also never raised someone with an unborn child still within their womb. The effects are unknown to me. Anything could happen." Her eyes softened, though remained wary. "Your baby might not be affected by the poison here at all, but I would not repeat that without knowing for certain. I do not."

 

Dany glanced down at her belly. She gulped, but her throat felt swollen and it hurt. "I did not know I was with child . . . "

 

"Neither did I. But you are, and she is alive again. Like her mother."

 

To be alive again meant she was dead at one point in time, and the pain shot deeper into her bones as Dany realized what that meant—Jon had taken two lives that fateful day with his dagger, not just one.

 

She ran her hand slowly over her belly. There was no anger or hatred in her anymore, only a calm stillness that came from the realization that she had somehing left to her, after all. It was not the only thing. Dany was glad to have her life back, to breathe again, but she was also glad to still see kindness in strangers who had never met her or had reason to care for her. And though she had lost Viserion and Rhaegal, Drogon still flew overhead and had yet to see his mother since he had laid her into the hands of the temple.

 

"You have much to live for, Daenerys."

 

It was true. For once, she did not question it. "Thank you," Dany whispered, drawing in a shaky breath. There were fresh tears in her eyes. "Thank you for helping me to see."

 

"We may live for the purpose of helping others, but if we do not help ourselves first, we cannot hope to do so for them. A ship with a damaged hull must be repaired before it sets out to sea. Our bodies and minds are the same. Tell me, Daenerys, when is the last time you have thought of yourself over the needs of your people?"

 

She could not recall. All of her time had been spent worrying for someone else other than herself. Even when she took the venture North, it had not been for her. It was why she had been so set on the idea of the throne. It was all that was left for her in a sea of causes and purposes that had been given to other people. A spearhead she had been, and it had cost her her life. Who had cared, in the end, what it cost her? No one but Drogon, for he had brought her here.

 

In her mind she could recall the long stretches of desert in the Red Waste, and her days spent wandering to save her people. All of those people, they were gone long before her. Everyone who had followed her had ended up dead.

 

 _Mother of monsters_ , the Undying had called her.  _Daughter of death_.

 

It had been true. It had all been true.

 

"You need rest tonight," Chiara said, touching Dany's cheek in a comforting gesture. "Tomorrow we may talk more about your troubles, and what we might do to help. For now, cast them aside. Sleep will help to heal you."

 

Dany knew this was true, too. Her guard fell away, loosening the last bit of strain in her body. At this point, she must trust Chiara with her life. The red priestess had given it back to her. Someone who gave life did not take it away.

 

She accepted Chiara's hand, walking back to the quarters where they had prepared a bed for her. The red priestess bid her goodnight, leaving Dany alone to loosen her hair about her shoulders, change into a fresh nightshift of ivory tone, and crawl into bed under clean, cool covers.

 

Cradling her stomach in her hands, Dany fell into a dreamless sleep out of exhaustion, but not before hoping tomorrow would change everything. Her mind slipped into darkness, and then prickled with a crackling flame. The shadowy visage of Drogon's face appeared before the rising smoke before her. He slowly yawned, wide jowls opening, before bursting into an inferno of flame and heat that rushed forth into  _fire and blood_  and enveloped her whole.

 

 


End file.
